Siмpliciтy
by faux nostalgia
Summary: when friendship turns to something more, it's a one–way street, and there's no turning back. MuFuu. postANIME & sequel of 'Complexity'.
1. oo0·a·fterthought

A/N: I don't own Samurai Champloo. I got really bored so this came in mind. . . please enjoy ☺

* * *

**Simplicity**

oo0.a.fterthought. 

_"See you around."_

. . . those words mattered.

Like _they _mattered to her.

A meaning to all simplicities a small phrase can imply.

Maybe, she hoped they understood it, too, quietly telling them how much she didn't want to be alone again.

But the moment they walked through different paths, the simple statement left only but a subtle scar inside them.

At least, maybe, one of them.

She didn't expect them to walk away.

Nor did she expect them to follow her.

Or maybe. . . _him_ to follow her.

But the moment she took a step, as large as any baby steps, on to another fresh world by herself, with nobody beside her to count on anymore. . . she knew that what she said mattered.

She didn't regret.

There was a reason for everything.

Even if it cost more than two years of enduring. . . there was a reason she didn't say goodbye._  
_

_

* * *

_.**tobecontinued** ( questions ? comments ? please review XD ) this is a prologue, please excuse the shortness of it. . . (sob. .) rated K. . . for now. . . _  
_


	2. oo1·b·elieve

A/N: i don't own Samurai Champloo. Please enjoy, beloved readers and reviewers and passerbyers XD!

* * *

**Simplicity**  
oo1.b.elieve.

_If you believe in one thing. . . will it help you keep moving?  
When you wish on something you believe for so long. . . will it come true. . . ?_

-

She was growing old. 

So, so, very old.

There wasn't much time until the sands of her hourglass falls to the last grain. . . gobbling up the remaining piece of her ancient life. She was forced to stay at one spot, her hands only moving, as they sluggishly shuffled a long deck of ancient cards. Only when afternoon arrives will her young helper aid her out the small temple house to explore the world outside.

Of course, it was the same grass. . . same forests. . . same rock. . . same earth everyday. . . but it was better than watching the matted floor of her small room. Or the ceiling.

Oh, she was very, very old. . .

She squinted her fading black eyes at her finished work, and cut the deck in half, to only begin shuffling it once more.

"Terrible, terrible day it is," she muttered, "I was hoping to go outside today. This damn coming rain, I despise it."

Nobody answered her. She was, as of now, alone in the shrine house, and even if the walls were completely made of rice-papers, her helper was out town for another job. Realizing that, she sighed and stopped shuffling. She shut her eyes and spread the cards in one slide into a rainbow pattern on the small table.

Handmade by herself, at least 102 counts of cards in a pile. Each card symbolizing all those events she had crossed, emotions she had felt, and elements she had learned. There were no flaws. Each one was perfect, never a mistake reading. Her past was no mistake. Through reflex, she reached out and grabbed the card that lulled her mind at lightning speed. She smiled with closed eyes.

_Ah. . . that is what she thinks. _

She opened her eyes and flipped the card to see a water-painting of a man in multicolored clothing.

_The Fool_, she frowned. _Today is another dupe._

"Again? Che, child, _really_. . . third time of the week. . .!"

She leaned back against the wall and drew in a deep breath. The perfect bun behind her head ruffled, as her bangs grazed her cheeks. There wasn't a single black strand left growing within her wrinkled liver-spotted skin as there were last year. Well. . . not that there were that many last year. . .

She despised aging, but couldn't refuse the cycle of life. Her once perfect body 20 twenty years ago was disappearing, masking her all over with stress lines and baggy eyes. She couldn't blame that her sight was getting poor, as well as nearly disabled. She had forgotten what her face looks like. Hell, she couldn't even look at her self in the mirror anymore. Not that she'd seen her self for 15 years.

She slid her old hand underneath the folds of her haori and took out a wrinkled cigarette. She reached for a match hidden beneath her belt robe and lit her smoke, puffing out a long tail of haze before getting comfortable in her rear. It was a matter of time until she dies without knowing who she would pass down her rackety old little temple house by the shore.

A simple old shrine nobody ever comes to but a few travelers, at least three or four, in a year. No candles were lit everyday, no ropes were rung for wishes to be granted. She would have done them herself but. . . being old can really find a weakness in her feet. The only human being who treated her as nicely than everyone else at town was her young caretaker. Maybe a once worship shrine can become a homely shrine for future family. . .

She could only hope.

_Hn_, she thought,_ she'll have to do, that child. _

She inhaled and exhaled, glancing at the clown-drawn card resting on top of the other turned cards and looked up the ceiling. The light bulb needed to be fixed. Good quiet times, smoking a cigar, drinking alcohol always did brought the good past in her mind. And she wasn't willing to stop herself from thinking about it.

Night fell like a mist of rain, drifting all around the isolated shrine and the town just half a mile away from it. Loneliness, once more, drifted into the atmosphere. She inhaled her smoke and puffed out the faze out of her nose, eyes closing halfway. She was exhausted. Her body was exhausted from moving. Her head was exhausted from thinking. Her heart was exhausted from beating.

She was on her hundreds but nobody came back for her. The only person she had left was her caretaker, who willingly sought as her companion, her family, and her listener. All these years she had been waiting for the one she loved yet nobody but a stranger came for her. Her companion, family, and listener.

Nobody came for her. But maybe, that child did. The old woman sighed and slowly pressed her cigar on the matted floor, squishing it until it died out.

"No time to think like that," she told herself, "not when you've barely got two days to live."

"I'm home!" a faint voice echoed throughout the halls.

"Shit," the old woman widened her eyes and quickly shoved the dead cigar into the folds of her haori and brushed the remaining marks on the floor away from sight. She moaned when she realized that she had moved a bit too quick and tried to endure the temporary back pain by closing her eyes and slowly breathing in and out.

"'Baa-chan?" there was a few rustling until the old woman watched the door slide open. A young woman dressed in beautiful blue clad the old woman had taught her to make stepped into the room tentatively.

Her long brown hair was tied in a beautiful messy bun constructed by mere two chopsticks. Rosy cheeks burned from the warmness of the house and dark brown eyes searched around the room. She silently made her way and sat across the table opposite of the old woman. The old woman sniffed and raised a hand up slowly then brought it down as greetings.

"Welcome home, child. How was work?"

The young woman smiled hesitantly.

"It's been busy lately. I'm not surprised that people are barging in to get reserves," she replied, "the pays are good so I was able to buy some dinner for the both of us. Are you hungry, 'baa-chan?"

The old woman snorted.

"What do you think I've been sitting here on my ass waiting until you make food," she retorted, with a bit of humour, "my body ain't like what it used to."

The girl smiled.

"Sorry about that," she said, "I tried to find the ingredients for that crab sushi you wanted to eat."

"Child! Are you blind? My teeth are frickin' gone and you expect me to chew leather and rocks?" the old woman cried, "please. This old woman can barely eat mud."

The girl stared at her with brown eyes. For a moment, the old woman saw a twinkle of nostalgia passing through her orbs, gone in but half a second to only replace a mirth look of enjoyment.

"'Baa-chan!" she laughed, "really. If you'd like me to, I'll mash them up for you."

"Whatever, child," the old woman shook her head, "anything, as long as something edible goes in my throat."

The girl smiled and nodded.

"Speaking of which," her happy brows burrowed into a frown, "is that smoke I smell?"

"_Incense_, girl, _incense_," the old woman replied, "I told you I don't smoke no more."

"Until I found you out this morning sucking a dozen of them?" the girl raised an eyebrow. "You really have to stop smoking at this age."

"Like it matters," the older woman puffed, "I've got two days to live, child, remember that."

The girl looked at her for a moment until trailing her eyes back down onto the card facing up. She lifted the corner of her lips and reached for the chosen one and scanned it for a few seconds before chuckling.

"Third time again, right?" she murmured, "so I probably don't have to tell you what happened today."

"Nope," the old woman remarked, "I already know." - she looked at her with a haughty, toothless grin - "say. . . they _did_ come back to check up on you, didn't they."

The girl's soft face changed into an annoyed expression and she pouted once again.

"Yeah," she grumbled, "those bastards won't leave me alone. I've tried reserving them as much hosts as I could but all they keep asking is me. I don't work as a host!"

"You say that but there's no denyin' that you still work at a well-known brothel palace, child," the older one laughed merrily, "anyone would mistake you as a prostitute!"

The girl snorted and slapped the card onto the table. Her lips moved into a huger pout and all tension became firm, as well as sullen.

"Once in a while, just plain 'Fuu' would be a better hear rather than calling me a 'child'," she complained. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"But to a lady who's at least 8 frickin' decades older than you, everyone is a puny child to my eye," the woman sufficed with much certainty.

Fuu stopped to suck in her breath and rolled her eyes. Not only was her day pretty bad, but she'd just thrown herself into another argument with a really old woman whose got pushiness.

"Geez, 'baa-chan," she sighed, "every day. _Every day_. Can't we at least have a decent conversation? I don't really know how to act in front of old women with attitudes like yours. . ."

The old woman tilted her head to one side and observed her weary face with fading beady eyes.

"You don't like it, child?" she questioned all of a sudden, "is this not how he acts towards you?"

Fuu opened her eyes and gave her an equal stare. Whatever atmosphere there was in the room faded into something not one of them can recall. She stiffened for a second but then smiled her sad smile. Irritated eyes became somewhat lamentable.

"I have to get dinner ready," she stood up and headed towards the door. She looked back over her shoulders, "I'll make crab sushi for myself and crab soup and broth for you, all right? It should ease your body aches. Oh, and try not to smoke again before dinner. It really annoys me when the smell takes over the pretty cooking. I'll be back to fetch you when the food's done. Okay?"

Without another word, the girl left and slid the door close. Kika-baa-chan sniffed and gathered up her decks into one pile and placed them on the center of the table.

_The Fool_, she thought,_ expected fortunes will bring misfortunes. Fortunes are nothing but a dupe. They are an infinite case of jumbled emotions fixed in one state._

She yawned and slowly closed her eyes, facing the ceiling with her exhausted face.

_I'm sorry, Fuu, my Death will be tomorrow. I can't watch over you on this filthy soil. I can't say anything to ease your sorrow. . . but I can tell you only one thing. . ._

* * *

_. . . your infinite belief will be your only Fool. _

The grave was buried on the large cliff near the shrine house just as the old woman wanted. Fuu inherited the house just as the old woman wanted, and she had no choice but to agree.

She had spent at least 5 years traveling around Japan, looking for something and experiencing anything she could find. It was probably time to settle down on a place until she grows older and older.

Luck was never on her hands. Then again. . . Bad Luck was just chasing her down. She knew nobody. Couldn't remember anybody from her bloodline but her mother and her father. Now deceased and gone.

She tucked in the folds of her blue kimono tightly around her chest when the wind seeped within the openings. She knelt down to pray for peace on the old woman and the remaining of her own life.

_Kika-baa-chan. . . nobody came for you, but I probably did, when you found me drifting on the shore. _

She would have looked dead to anyone. . . but Kika-baa-chan still cared for her.

As if resurrecting the dead.

_Anyone to be your friend._

Fuu opened her eyes halfway and observed the gravestone. She didn't cry. The old woman wasn't expecting her to. Nor did she.

"You and I are the same. Nobody came for you. . . and nobody came for me. All we had was each other. But now all I have is myself. I was happy to know you for 5 years, and grateful that you held back your death until the right time came," she smiled.

_I really appreciated that._

She stood up and looked at the sunset horizon, lips straight and firm. Brown eyes twinkled and retentions slid passed them again.

"The same," she whispered, ". . . isn't that right, 'baa-chan? We're the same in a way."

She was waiting for an answer, but nobody replied. The wind only died and the sun descended until twilight night arrived. She stood there for hours, looking at the sea, hoping that something extraordinary might happen. She always hoped that.

That maybe. . . she could get harassed by a minister's son in a restaurant, and someone would save her for a silly bargain of 200 dumplings. Maybe she could get kidnaped by an ugly, yet demoralized, man and someone might come and save her by the night. Maybe someone could abduct her for a nude painting and someone would help find her through a pretty sketch of herself and realize that she'd been shipped overseas. Maybe. . . just maybe. . . he would come and rescue her in an island of sunflowers by a man who wanted revenge. . . where she thought he would, _never_ in a million centuries, give up his sword just for _her_ to be free.

"Maybe," she smiled. ". . . maybe that might happen again. . . who knows. . ."

Infinitely believing. And infinitely waiting. If you believe in something. . . will it help you keep moving? When you wish on something you believe for so long. . . will it come true?

"I can wait an eternity, if they'll come. Besides. . ."

Fuu smiled and tucked a few long hair strands behind her ear, walking back towards the lonely shrine house by the shore.

"Your name _does_ mean infinite, doesn't it, stupid tough guy. So, I'm okay waiting that long if you'll come back just for a little while. . ."

-

-

_What is it that people believe in?_

_How far will they go to reach their beliefs? _

_When the night falls,  
__do they look up  
__at the stars  
__and wonder. . ._

_how  
__long  
__infinity  
__might  
__be  
__through  
__a _

_lonesome _

_human _

_heart. . .?_

* * *

**.tobecontinued** (At long last! The mystery lover is revealed! Through so many hints and clues, you all probably know who it is without me writing the name (because I won't write it down. . . yet XD) I hope this one satisfied y'all than the last chapter. I tried to make it more depressing but my conscious just isn't reaching the emotions yet. So. . . plain sadness was used as the chapter's plot. Oh, and ratings _will_ go up higher (",)) please keep watch for _Simplicity's_ spin-off one-shot coming real soon:) 


End file.
